Do We Need To Change The World?
by rubyflanigan
Summary: Puck and Rachel get pregnant in high school. This is a series of drabbles relating to that. Established Puckleberry. Links to my other fic Nothing Is More Important Than You, but is set before  and maybe after  so you don't need to read that first.
1. Chapter 1

**Part of what I am now calling Delilah-Verse**

**Written because Delilah won't leave me alone, and for the 10 fics comm on LJ**

**I own nothing of Glee, evidenced by the fact that Puck and Rachel aren't a) together and b) having sex on the regular on HBO or Skinemax. My thanks to Jess (stealingmachines on tumblr) for her assistance with this. **

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><p>"Are you sure about this, Noah? I mean, I know this can't be easy for you after what happened with Quinn, and I'd hate for you to resent me if you decide to see this through with me, because there's no way, no way, Noah, that I'm not going through with this. This baby may only be the size of a bug, and having it will be hard work and will no doubt force me to change my plans for my future, but I already love it, Noah, and I'm not sure how that's even possible, but I do, so there's no way I'll even consider abortion or adoption, and people will inevitably gossip, about both of us - regardless of whether we're in this together or not - which means being with me, with us, is probably going to damage your reputation beyond repair."<p>

"Bring it," he says and you smile at him, that same smile you gave him the first time he uttered those words. "I'm serious, Rachel. I'm serious about you, how I feel about you, and that's not gonna change any time soon. And that little bug in your belly? That's my baby. Our baby, so of course I'm in this with you."

You can't help the tears that roll down your cheeks, but you're smiling and he's brushing them away tenderly with his thumbs as he grins at you.

"You're a total MILF now. You realise that, don't you?" You laugh because he looks proud and completely serious.

"And you're a DILF," you reply, frowning and making that face you know you've seen him make when you try to feed him tofu.

"Yeah, how about you never say anything like that again, Baby," he mocks and you wholeheartedly agree, nodding even as he dips his head to place a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth, tasting the tears from earlier.

"Noah," you sigh. He lays down half on his pillows and pulls you down with him so you're lying between his legs, head on his chest resting over his heart, and he plays with the ends of your hair with one hand and plays with your fingers with the other. It's peaceful, comfortable and it's as if nothing else exists.

It's at that moment you start to panic. What if you can't do this? What if you can't be a mom since you never actually had one? What if you drop the baby? What if you can't birth it? Where are you going to live? How are you going to tell your dads?

You don't realise you've been quite so vocal about your concerns (epically lost your shit, Noah calls it) until he tells you – altogether too loudly – to "shut up" and that "everything will be fucking awesome because we're a couple of good looking Jews."

You're not sure that makes any sense but you're kissing him hard, forcing your tongue passed his lips, because even though you're still not totally convinced this whole situation will be as awesome as he claims, you know he'll be with you every step of the way.

If you happen to tug your shirt off over your head and unhook your bra the second he pulls away to breathe, it's because of the pregnancy hormones and not because this boy makes you crazy. Crazy to the point where you can't concentrate on anything other than the feelings he evokes in your heart and between your legs whenever he's within the same zip code. Which is pretty much all the time since you live in the same town and Lima's not huge.

You're unbuckling his belt before he even realises you're half naked, like some kind of role reversal – you're normally half naked before _you_ realise – when he stills your hands with his own.

"Lemme take care of you, Baby," he says, his voice low, seductive and sincere, and then he's kissing you slowly but passionately, all lips and tongue and the occasional nip to your bottom lip. You give as good as you get though, biting and soothing him with your tongue because he told you before how hard that makes him, and right now is no exception.

He still manages to convince you – a soft kiss, an unspoken promise, to your abdomen being all it takes – to give in to his need to show you rather than tell you what you carrying his baby means to him, showing you with three orgasms before he enters you (not even he expected the third one , mind you).

After, when you're both laying entwined with each other, all blissed out and quiet, you realise that you can do this. As long as you have Noah, and although you're still terrified, you got this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part of what I am calling Delilah-Verse**

**Written because Delilah won't leave me alone**

**I own nothing of Glee, evidenced by the fact that Puck and Rachel aren't a) together and b) having sex on the regular on HBO or Skinemax. My thanks to Jess (stealingmachines on tumblr) for her assistance with this. **

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><p>You clean your teeth and rinse your mouth for the fourth time today, cursing your boyfriend under your breath for doing this to you. Not that it's entirely his fault, but still, constant vomiting is not attractive.<p>

"Noah, I'd like to point out that I am most definitely carrying your son, not that there was ever any doubt."

"Whoa, what? Since when is this my fault?" You glare at him. "Okay, point taken, but how do you know it's a boy?"

You look sheepish, not quite meeting his eyes, "I've been having these dreams lately. And only a miniature replica of you would be stubborn and obnoxious enough to make me this sick!"

He rolls his eyes at you which, if you're honest, you've come to expect. "First of all, I'm fucking awesome which means my kid is gonna be awesome, and b) have you seen who the kid's mom is? Maybe it's because it's a Berry baby that it's stubborn and obnoxious and making you puke."

You gasp. He laughs and takes your hand, linking fingers with you and pulling you closer. He brings your hand up to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles. Although you're outraged, you let him.

"So you've been having dreams, huh?" He asks, changing the subject with the subtlety of a brick, "just baby ones or sexy ones, too? Because we can totally act those out if you want, you know…"

You roll your eyes, "I'm not going into the specifics of my dreams with you since you're the reason I'm forever heaving up the contents of my frequently empty stomach, but suffice to say we're having a boy. I'm a little bit psychic, as you well know, and I'm positive these dreams are a sign, Noah," you say firmly as you lay a hand over your not-even-almost-visible baby bump, "it's a boy. We're having a little boy and his name is Tony."

"Fuck no."

"What's wrong with Tony?"

"Dude, no kid of mine is going to be called Tony, whether he's a boy or not. Kid's gonna have a badass name, because he's clearly gonna be badass since he's my – our – kid. And Tony is a dumbass name, not a badass one."

You huff and stomp and try to fold your arms but he won't let go of your hand.

"I'm hungry," you tell him, pouting a little. He looks clearly surprised that you've let the dispute over the baby's name drop so readily, so you ignore him with a dramatic sigh, "I'm so hungry, Noah. Feed me. Your child wants food."

He pulls you closer to where he's sitting on the edge of your bed to stand between his legs and lowers his head to your belly, whispering, "what d'you wanna eat, little dude?"

You stifle a giggle before admitting that you'd kill for a steak and cheese sandwich, "but it's Tony that wants it, not me," you hasten to add.

"Sure he does," Noah sarcastically agrees, "but stop calling him Tony!"

"Fix me my sandwich!"

"On it, B-Mama."

"Really, Noah? Really?"

"Just testing it out, Babe."

"Just feed me," you say laughing as he guides you backwards so he can stand up, "and then maybe I'll let you re-enact some of my more risqué dreams."


	3. Chapter 3

**My sincere thanks to everyone who has read/reviewed/alerted this and my other stories, and me. I'm humbled, I really am. I am getting round to thanking you personally now that I've changed my email address the alerts come to! I hope this instalment lives up to your expectations!**

**Once again, thanks to Jess (stealingmachines on tumblr) for her once over!**

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><p>"I'm 50% sure it's a girl," the technician advises.<p>

"Dude, I'm 50% sure it's a girl, be more sure!"

The technician looks to Noah (who happens to be staring at you after your little outburst, with a mix of shock and pride which only serves to make him look constipated) for confirmation that you both want to know the sex of the baby.

"Noah," you hiss.

"What? Yeah, yeah we wanna know," he says, snapping out of his temporary stupor.

"Well okay, let's see what we have here," the technician says while moving the wand around on your belly, "mhmm, I'm fairly certain, and before you say anything, Rachel, I'm not legally allowed to tell you it's definite in case it's wrong and you sue me." You glare and Noah chuckles, "anyway, I'm fairly certain you're having a girl."

"A girl? But I'm having a boy," you insist.

"Nope, you're having a girl."

"A boy named Tony."

"A girl. We're having a little girl."

You and the technician both look to Noah at this, and notice he's staring at the screen intently, with a look of awe on his face, more so than at the first scan. He looks almost overwhelmed and there are tears threatening to fall from his eyes, which you notice before you feel the wetness on your own cheeks. A girl. You're having a girl and all of a sudden the name 'Tony' couldn't be further from your mind, and Noah's 'Berry Baby' remarks seem less inappropriate because you're having a baby you, a baby girl.

"Can we go?" you ask the technician, who nods and explains that since all the other checks were carried out before your sonogram, you're free to go. "Noah, take me home."

His eyes are still full of unshed tears – tears which are likely to fall the minute you're alone with him. He leaves the examination room to sort out your bill and next appointment while you make yourself presentable.

"You've got a good one there, Rachel. That boy's crazy for you and that baby, you know?" the technician says, taking you a little by surprise.

"I know. I'm very lucky," you reply modestly, picking up your jacket and purse and leaving the room with a 'bye, see you soon'.

Noah's waiting for you when you emerge from the exam room and immediately wraps you in a hug, nuzzling your neck.

"Take me home," you repeat and you feel him nod his head, place a kiss behind your ear and then link fingers with you, tugging you into his side as you both walk out.

When he gets you home he kisses you before letting you wipe the tears – the ones he's done so well to prevent from falling – from his cheeks. You force him to look at you with your hands on his face.

"Noah, are you okay? We're having a baby girl, and after Beth-"

"Rach, I couldn't be happier. Yeah, I mean, I know Beth was a girl too, but she's not mine anymore. This baby, this little girl, will grow up knowing I'm her dad."

"You are the best man I know and this little girl," you pause to rub your bump as if to emphasise your point, "is going to be the luckiest little girl."

"C'mon," he says pulling you gently by the hand up the stairs to your bedroom. You hate yourself for thinking it but in a way you're glad Noah's mother kicked him out, because it means you have him all day, every day. And as much as you wish he could repair his relationship with his mother, you love him here, with you, and you can see the rest of your life like this.

Well, maybe not fat with a baby in your belly, but with him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you again to everyone who has read/reviewed/alerted this and my other stories, and me. I hope this instalment lives up to your expectations!**

**Once again, thanks to Jess (stealingmachines on tumblr) for her once over!**

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><p>You're startled awake by a feeling. At first you think it's Noah being the highly sexed man-boy that he is, but you quickly realise he's sound asleep and it wasn't that sort of feeling. You briefly wonder when you became as highly sexed as your boyfriend for that to have been your first thought, but then you remember you're Noah Puckerman's girlfriend and you're carrying his baby.<p>

Pregnancy hormones were a bitch to start with but now you have trouble stopping yourself from jumping him every minute of every hour of every day. You've lost count of the number of times you've brought yourself to orgasm just because he was "just gonna be a minute" getting some water and cookie dough or something equally as unimportant.

So that answers that question. Back to the feeling that startled you awake at 2:34 in the morning. For want of a better expression, it felt like a chill but when you sleep next to the human heater that is Noah, it seems unlikely that you're cold. It's also summer and still something like 102 degrees (you exaggerate, but only slightly).

And gosh, the baby's kicking up a frenzy which she doesn't normally do at this time of night (for the seven whole hours before maybe, but she's usually calm by now) so you're sure something's up - you are a little bit psychic and your daughter has obviously inherited it. And then something shadowy catches your eye.

"Noah? Noah, wake up."

"Not again, Baby. I'm beat."

"Noah!"

"Rach, dude, I might be a stud but you're wearing me out!"

"Puckerman, wake up. Wake up this instant," you hiss and poke at his forehead, hoping he'll get that you're serious.

"What, Rach?" He huffs out, his voice tired and thick with sleep, and you won't lie, it turns you on but there's that shadow to deal with first.

"God, I hope you're this pleasant when I wake you up because I've gone into labour," you retaliate, following up with, "I saw something."

"When you're in labour, you'll be screeching, not poking me in the head, and what are you on about?" He reaches out to rest his hand on your bump because he has to. If he's not touching you, he's staring. "Whoa, she's kicking shit outta you, Baby. Hey, Lilah?" He lowers his lips to where she's kicking the most, "s'up baby girl? Your mom needs her sleep, 'kay. You gotta give it a rest."

He's at his sexiest when he's sweet like this and his behaviour is doing nothing to make you any less aroused.

"I saw a ghost, Noah." He looks up at you, drawing patterns on your swollen stomach, and rolls his eyes, which you don't appreciate, but ignore for the most part (you're mentally tallying them all up for future reference) "I felt it first, almost like it was touching my stomach, and it was cold, and then I saw it. Right over there, by the dresser. I can tell you don't believe me, but I don't care because I know what I saw and I saw a ghost."

"Yeah, okay. I'll bite. Tell me everything," he sighs, his fingers still tracing nonsensical patterns, soothing Delilah, but having the opposite effect on you. You're so wound up at the moment that you don't care about the ghost you saw. Now that you're both awake, you may as well make the most of it, right? Right.

"Make me come, first," you all but demand. You've never seen his head whip round so fast and it would make you laugh if you weren't so horny (there, you said it. Well, you though it).

"Say what?"

You shift closer to him and begin to place tiny kisses to where you're nuzzling his neck, working your way up to his ear where you take the lobe between your teeth. "Make me come first and then I'll _retell _you everything," you purr (you're almost shocked by how sexual your voice is). He growls and kisses you hard and dirty, all tongues and occasionally teeth, before moving down the bed, winking at you before he lowers his head to between your legs.

He makes you come. Twice on his tongue before all his protestations about you wearing him out are forgotten and he takes you from behind, even if it is stupid o'clock in the morning. Thank God it's summer and you don't have to get up for school.

"So tell me about the ghost, Baby," he says sincerely, fingers running through your hair as you lay with your head on his shoulder, just chilling together.

You retell how you felt something and then saw something and you're sure he's going to tell you (yet again) you're crazy, so you're shocked when he shrugs one shoulder and says, "maybe it was your Nana," matter of factly. You're actually shocked enough to lift your head and raise an eyebrow at him. "Still think you're crazy though," he adds because he wouldn't be him otherwise.

You'd threaten to withhold sex from him every time he says that, but you both know you'd never last, so you offer, "yeah, I know," on a yawn in reply and leave it at that.


	5. Chapter 5

**Apologies for the wait... This has been sat on my laptop waiting to be posted but with moving to college and stuff and stuff, I just never got round to it. I hope you enjoy the update though! Thanks to Alipants who gave this the once over, so any mistakes are know hers. LOL.**

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><p>You're not sure how it happened. Well you know exactly how it happened, but you're not sure how you let it happen. You remember it having a lot to do with a certain good looking Jew, and his lovely arms, worming his way under your skin and into your heart. You quite like him there though, and you smile when you think about him.<p>

You think back over the 8 months leading up to that day, or rather any one of the days of the previous 6 weeks, because his appetite for all things sexual has been matched by yours in the 5 months since you were devirginised. Who would have thought that particular game of spin the bottle (the one where the bottle landed on him and you wasted no time in launching yourself, quite literally, into his lap) would lead to a relationship with one of McKinley's hottest, sweetest guys?

And then you remember that day itself, standing over the bathroom sink, hands clutching at the counter top as you try to steady your breathing. When you hear the front door close, your stomach lurches.

"Rach?" he calls out to you. You squeak in response, voice appearing to have failed you. Noah knocks, but doesn't wait for a reply before pushing the bathroom door open. You jump, startled, as you put on your time-practised show face, but he sees through it. He knows you too well. "Baby, what's wrong?"

A lone tear makes its way down your cheek before you bury yourself in his arms. Instinctively he strokes your hair to comfort you as you cry into his shirt.

"I'm pregnant" you mumble.

"I'm sorry, what?" He says, or rather chokes, and he certainly isn't helping here but you bite your tongue, opting instead to repeat yourself more clearly, albeit not lifting your head from where it's pressed to his chest.

"I'm pregnant." You can't tell what he's thinking, and you can always tell what he's thinking so this is freaking you out.

"Rach, I..." He unwraps his arms from you, hold you at arm's length and apologises in a voice so quiet and scared.

"Noah, please don't say you're sorry because that sounds like you regret me. Please don't regret me, us, please. I couldn't bear it."

"Shit, Baby, I don't regret you or us. I'm sorry I knocked you up. Fuck my mom's gonna cut my dick off for sure." You can see something in his eyes which doesn't reflect the careful, sensitive words he's saying.

You tell him to leave, not because you want him to but because you know him. You know from the look in his eye that he needs time to himself. Time to get his head round what you've just told him and you could use that time too, to weigh up your options. You may be pregnant but you're still methodical and a planner and you like to have everything researched to within an inch of its life (if, you know, it had a life).

Which all leads you to where you are now, sweating and crying and in more pain than you'd care to be in (but surprisingly less than you'd been led to believe) and about to snap if one more person tells you to push. What do they think you're doing?

"Fuck!" You didn't mean to say that out loud, but every pair of eyes in that room are now trained on you so you give them all a smile (although it feels like more of a grimace, maybe a sneer - you're not in a position to care).

And then the pain hits you.

Again.

And here come the cries of "push, Rachel" and for once you're glad Noah's not joining them, instead holding your hand and placing sweet kisses to your knuckles every so often.

"What the fuck do you honestly think I'm doing? I'm not painting my nails!" You want to punch everyone in the delivery room at any given moment, because do they really think you're not pushing? Really? They don't need to tell you to do just that every five seconds.

You cry. Literally, because you don't want to do this anymore. You turn your head to your boyfriend - you want to say 'the idiot that got you in this state', but he's not an idiot and it wasn't entirely his fault - and sob, "Noah, I can't. No more. I can't."

"Baby, I know you're tired," he says soothingly and you smile through your tears, contraction and pushing, "I know, but it won't be long now. And you want to meet 'Lilah, don't you?"

You nod, because honestly you'd love nothing more right now than to have your daughter cradled in your arms while Noah cradles you in his, "then you have to, Rach, please?" He wipes sweat of your forehead, cups your face with his hand, "Because I wanna hold my little girl."

He looks like he's on the verge of tears himself so you whisper "okay."

It doesn't take long until the pinkest, wrinkliest, most beautiful thing you've ever seen is placed in your arms, yawning and stretching before snuggling into your embrace. Her hair is ridiculous - sticking up in all directions - but she's perfect, worth the exhaustion and pain.

Your dads, before they head out, say she looks like you did when you were first born, but you're adamant she most resembles Noah. Either way she's amazing.

You look up at Noah. His eyes are fixed on Delilah, wet with tears that haven't yet fallen and you have to say his name three times before he finally realises you're talking to him.

"She's perfect, Rach." He kisses the top of your head, whispers 'thank you' and holds her like a natural when you hand her to him.

"Hey Baby Girl." He coos, and even though she can't focus on anything yet, you'd swear she was looking at him, "waited a long time to meet you, Lilah. S'worth it though. Even if your hair is kinda crazy. You get that from your mom."

He must notice your frown because he chuckles before saying "have you seen you right now, B-Mama? She gets it from you."

"Are you forgetting what I've just gone through? And stop calling me B-Mama," you yawn. Noah perches on the edge of your bed and smoothing a hand over your hair asks, "tired Baby?" You nod "get some sleep, we're not going anywhere," and leans down to kiss you full on the mouth, before you close your eyes and drift off, safe in the knowledge that he means for good.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed so far, and to those who alerted and favourite'd. It means so much to me. There's only so much more I can write within the Delilah-verse, and unfortunately this may soon be coming to an end, but I am trying my best to work on other things on top of writing assignments and watching Downton Abbey and such. Anyway, enjoy... As always, I don't own anything associated with Glee.**

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><p>Delilah's pretty much the most amazing thing ever. You can't quite get over how amazing she is. Her pretty eyes, little mouth and fingers and toes, and her crazy hair… Hell, she's even as cute as a button while she's filling her diaper, but you're restless. It's been five weeks and you're not sure what to do with yourself most of the time.<p>

Sure you sleep when she sleeps, because everyone told you that's how you should work it when you have a new born. You feed her when she's hungry (she's even amazing when she gets spit-up all over you), talk to her as you keep the house in order and sometimes just lay on the floor with her when neither if you can be bothered to move.

But back to you being restless… You're lacking in adult conversation, and yes, Noah and your dads are around in the evenings when they're not working, and it's not like you and Delilah don't go out. Because you do, and she seems to love the fresh air. It's simply that you want to do something.

So you call Noah at work and tell him he's in charge for the night, and then you text Tina and Brittany (you always did like them better than the other girls), who thankfully agree to a girls' night. It's at the Lima Bean because none of you are 21 yet, but still…

Brittany shows up 30 minutes after you and Tina, which is something close to a miracle for her. Apparently Lord Tubbington held her purse hostage until she told him where she'd hidden her diary. God, you've missed this.

They catch you up with the gossip and the numerous breakdowns Mr Schuester has had since you've been off school with Delilah, but somewhere between the laughing and the shock of it all, you realise you miss being at home with your family – with Noah and your daughter.

You make your excuses to the girls and leave right after they convince you to make Saturday 'Spa Day' at the Berry house. Brittany calls it 'The Rachel Berry Spa Day Train Wreck Extravaganza' but you're not entirely sure why. Obviously she has her reasons, so who are you to question them?

Your dads are watching a gory looking movie when you get in (you're surprised Noah's not watching it with them) and you kiss each of them goodnight, after answering their questions about your evening.

When you reach the top of the stairs you head straight for your room, since the baby is still in a bassinet in there, but stop short of opening the door fully when you hear Noah say, "hey Lilah? You missed your dad kicking some serious ass," and walk in in time to see her snuggle into his stomach, where she's currently sleeping, as he plays something (you want to say Call of Duty but all these games with guns look the same to you) on the X-Box.

"Hey Baby," he says when he looks away from Delilah, "good time with the girls?" You nod and he throws the controller towards the end of the bed. It falls on the floor with a thud. "Noah," you say and on your way to the closet to deposit your coat, you pick it up, placing it on top of the console. You lie on the bed next to him and smooth your hand down your daughter's back.

"Missed you," you say before looking up at Noah, "missed you both."

He moves to kiss the top of your head and your eyes drift closed. You're content being here like this, just the three of you.

"You were only out for two hours," he chuckles.

"I know," you reply, "still missed you though."

Delilah chooses that moment to let a big sigh. She snuggles further into her daddy, chasing his warmth.

"You shouldn't let her sleep on you, Noah, she'll get spoilt and she'll cry when I move her, and I'll end up being the hard-ass parent, and you'll be the fun one. It's not fair."

He laughs out loud at your pout causing Delilah to shake a little where she is, but she's due a feed, so neither of you feels too guilty when she wakes. She was probably only dozing anyway. You're still nursing her yourself, so you lift her off Noah once you're comfortable (you're not sure if him watching you feed his daughter is perverted. He says not when you ask him).

Noah gets Delilah settled in her bassinet once she's fed and winded, as you get yourself ready for bed. It's not late but you're both pretty rubbish when it comes to late nights these days. He pulls the blankets up over you both and turns the lamp off after he slides into bed with you and curls his hands around your hip so you'll scoot closer. He's a cuddler, your boyfriend, and you love it, so you're not at all surprised to hear him say, "hey Rach? Wanna make out?"

There's really only one answer.


End file.
